


stronger links

by voksen



Series: WKverse [52]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Bondage, Control Issues, First Time, M/M, Telekinesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-22
Updated: 2009-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/pseuds/voksen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mamoru knows good things when he sees them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stronger links

  
The night Nagi finishes his seventh mission for Kritiker, he finds Mamoru waiting for him in his little one-room apartment, sitting on the single chair. He stands as Nagi enters, looks him over, nods, says "Well done."

Nagi shrugs off the praise - and the gray-and-black coat Mamoru had had made for him, with the red crosses on the sleeves. It fits him well enough, but it's not his style; there are too many buttons, it's too flashy, the tailored fit remind him vaguely of something Schuldig would wear... and the heavy wool is often too hot. He hangs it up and tucks it back into the closet before he turns back to his visitor.

"Do you have something else already?" He wouldn't mind it; the things Mamoru has him doing, while perhaps not exactly easy, certainly seem like it compared to how hard Crawford had always worked him. He's taken to practicing on his own more and more lately.

But Mamoru is shaking his head: "I just wanted to talk," he says, which triggers Nagi's _bullshit_ alarm as fast as Schuldig opening his mouth ever had.

"About?" Nagi crosses to the refrigerator, opens it, pulls out a half-eaten box of leftover noodles, chopsticks still sticking out of it. He eats, neatly, quickly: the night's job might have been less work than he's used to, but it still blew through energy. "Sorry," he says around a mouthful, noticing Mamoru looking at him oddly.

That gets him another little smile - but he's gotten used to that by now, Mamoru's strange habit of being almost irritatingly happy at times, then calm and in control, then overly attached to irrational things, like some sort of emotional pendulum.

There's a pause, Mamoru sitting, watching him eat, before he speaks. "You're here because Oracle sent you," he says, "but why did he send you? Because it was advantageous... to what? What am _I_ helping with, by accepting your help?"

It must be a crisis of conscience or something, he thinks. Nagi's probably done the work of quite a few operatives over the time he's been actively working, each time without injury; anyone would start wondering about strings before long. Swallowing his mouthful, he shrugs. "The same thing he's always wanted," he says, scraping up the last bits from the bottom of the box, then putting it back in the fridge; he can deal with it later, after Mamoru leaves. "To get rid of Eszet." And Rosenkreuz, he adds mentally, but so far as he'd been able to tell, Kritiker wasn't aware of them. If Crawford thought they needed to know, Nagi would probably hear about it.

By the look in Mamoru's eyes, it's clear his answer seems too good to be true, probably thanks to Schuldig. "And that's all? No worldwide chaos... no rioting, no demons?"

Nagi shrugs. "Demons are Eszet's thing. He doesn't approve of the idea."

"Doesn't approve--" Mamoru laughs, startled but apparently genuine. "I guess I don't either," he says, looking not altogether unsurprised to have found a similarity between himself and Crawford. "And you? Why are you helping? What do you want?"

"I don't like Eszet either." Nagi keeps his voice flat, that dull, emotionless tone that says he doesn't want to talk about it and that there's history there; both of which are true, but really what he doesn't want to get into is why he's with Crawford and he _really_ does not want to have to try to justify Schuldig and Farfarello. That would take far more eloquence than he could dream of having, and he knows it.

Mamoru is watching him, analyzing him; Nagi knows the look. "They deal in psychics, not just demons and the occult," he says, and then, "You said once that you had had stranger interviews..."

Nagi crosses his arms, aware that it looks defensive, not caring. "They were... thorough." He's aware that Mamoru might - will probably - take that differently than the true meaning, which is more or less what he intends.

"I guess that explains why you double-crossed them," Mamoru muses. "Still..."

Arguing Crawford's planning strategies to someone who knows less about them than he does is not the way Nagi wants to spend the night. "It was necessary to gather as many members as possible in order to strike the first blow," he says anyway. "Otherwise they would have been prepared and the war might have been impossible to win."

Mamoru pounces on that instantly. "The war? What Schwarz has been doing in Europe, then...?"

"Eszet's branches are usually well defended."

"Is that why you're here? So that you and Kritiker together can...?"

Nagi shrugs. "Take out the rest of the Japanese division? Probably. I don't know."

Instead of pressing him further, Mamoru nods, changes the subject. "Do you like it here?"

The answer is an emphatic no - he still hasn't been able to find the time to sneak away, he still doesn't like being forced into interacting with Kritiker, he misses Schwarz - but he says, "It's all right."

He can tell by Mamoru's face that he wasn't very convincing. "It's... lonely here, huh?" he says, getting up, walking across the small room, glancing around. It doesn't look like he's having an easy time with the idea that Schwarz might be as close as Weiss had been, but he's been watching Nagi closely enough to know how little he speaks to anyone besides himself.

Lying would be obvious, therefore pointless. "Yes."

"I guess it would be." Mamoru is fully in what he thinks of as _Bombay mode_ , and he wonders why, what he thinks he'll be better able to get this way than by speaking for Kritiker. "It's just... you're so different than they are. It's hard to understand."

"You've been watching me for weeks," Nagi says, oddly struck by his choice of words, but pushing it away. "I'm not different." Not in the ways that matter, but then, of course, Mamoru wouldn't understand them.

"But you are," he insists, and walks towards him, making Nagi warier with each step. "And when we fought, in the tower... you didn't fight, just defended yourself," - that, Nagi thinks, is whitewashing the situation a little - "and ...you helped us, didn't you? When it collapsed. We should have been killed, but somehow..."

"Yes." Never mind that Crawford had ordered him to save his strength and told them all to keep Weiss alive, or that Schuldig had gotten half-strangled while trying to shock Aya's comatose brain into wakefulness from so far away; _they_ didn't need Mamoru to trust them. "It wasn't much extra work. We were all close." (He'd been barely conscious for three days afterward from the strain of it.)

Mamoru is close enough to touch him now, if at arm's length, and Nagi doesn't particularly trust it. "Thank you," he says, and _does_ reach out to touch him, putting a hand on his shoulder. There's nothing in it, though; just a casual touch, not unlike what he's used to from Schuldig.

"You're welcome," he says, trying to keep his eyes on Mamoru's face; they keep wanting to stray to his hand.

It stays there for a little too long before Mamoru drops it, ducking his head a little. "Listen," he says, and looks away, then back at Nagi, then sighs. "I know you probably aren't..."

He trails off, looking at Nagi expectantly; getting only a blank stare in return, he waits a moment longer, then leans in and kisses him.

Nagi realizes what's going on just in time to not throw him across the room, but it takes him a second longer to actually _register_ it. It might certainly be one way of getting permanently on his good side, in addition to running missions, but -

\- what if Mamoru is trying to seduce _him_ away from Schwarz into being a Kritiker operative for real?

The thought is laughable, almost ludicrous, but he can't discount it. Slowly, he kisses back: all things considered, even with the delay this is working better than his first try at kissing Tot; both their noses seem to be intact. It probably helps that he knows what he's doing a lot more than he had then.

"Oh," Mamoru says when they pull apart, and Nagi can't help it: _oh_ is just so... underwhelming a response that he smiles, lips twitching. Mamoru grins back at him, and it almost feels real.

He leans in again and a few minutes later they're kissing against the wall, Nagi's back pressed up close to it, when he feels Mamoru's hand start to slide under his shirt.

Nagi pulls back in a hurry; Mamoru starts to apologize, but is cut off short when Nagi turns them, shoving Mamoru back into the wall instead, and slowly lifts him, bit by bit, until his socks are scrabbling against the cheap flooring, trying to support himself even though Nagi has him held up, pinned to the wall like a butterfly, his arms trapped by his sides.

Nagi sees the realization of what's happened flash through Mamoru's eyes, followed by a gasp and a short, involuntary-sounding moan. And _that_ , he has to admit, is hot, even if he has no real desire for Mamoru, even if the situation is more powerplay than honest attraction. _Winning_ is hot, having the power is hot - and Mamoru thought he was different than Schuldig.

He sets his hand over the growing bulge in Mamoru's slacks, cupping, stroking, enjoying the visible, tangible shudder that racks his body all the more because he knows it's as much as he'll be able to move. "Do you want me to, Mamoru _-kun_?" he asks, rolling the taste of the name around his mouth, finding he enjoys it so much more that _Persia_ and _Takatori-san_.

"Yes," Mamoru breathes, and, as Nagi continues to caress him, " _please,_ Nagi-kun."

Nagi unzips Mamoru's pants, sliding his hand inside down and along the length of his cock to cup his balls, looking up into his eyes. He lifts Mamoru up the wall again, a good few inches, so that even if he points his toes the can't touch the ground, and feels his cock jerk hard against his hand, wetness rubbing against the inside of his arm, enough to form a drop and trickle down to his wrist.

When Mamoru comes in his hand, Nagi wipes it off on the inside of his shirt, then lets him down suddenly: it's not too far to fall, and the _thump_ as he lands is satisfactory - and followed immediately by another as Mamoru drops to his knees in front of Nagi, hands undoing his pants before he can think to object.

And Mamoru sucks cock like he's an old pro, all lips and tongue and throat and the barest, faintest graze of teeth just on the edge, just enough to be dangerous, a pointed reminder that Mamoru is technically supposed to be his boss.

Nagi comes all too soon, leaning back despite the urge to shove forward into his throat, wanting to come in his mouth, wanting the taste to linger. When he gets too sensitive, he moves back, zipping his pants up - and lifts Mamoru bodily to his feet with a gesture.

He doesn't miss that dark flash in his eyes, either, or the way Mamoru takes his time fixing his own pants, trying to adjust for the wet stain on the tail of his shirt.

"I'd like you to come to my grandfather's house tomorrow," Mamoru says rather abruptly - maybe regretting what he'd started, Nagi conjectures, or maybe just how it turned out for him, or maybe not asking for another round while the chance was there.

But it's back to business, so he nods, silent.


End file.
